Religious Authority

“Pilgrims of Love”
Sufism in a Global World
PNINA WERBNER I first met Hajji Karim (a pseudonym) Sufism contains inherently trans-regional, the saintly shrine system in South Asia
in 1987 quite accidentally, while re- transnational, and trans-ethnic dimensions. was interpolated into the Barelvi move-
searching Pakistani community politics The difficulty in trying to understand Sufism ment — a religious movement of ulama
in Manchester, England. The Central is that in any particular locality there is a in South Asia that arose to defend the
Jami‘a mosque, a corporate institution wide range of Sufi saints, from major shrines veneration of saints and their tombs.
built with voluntary donations in the of great antiquity to minor saints with a Barelvis foster extreme adoration of
days when the Muslim community of highly localized clientele. Charting difference the Prophet Muhammad and advocate
Manchester was still united, had wit- and similarity in Sufism as an embodied his continued “presence.” In Pakistan
nessed a series of factional conflicts tradition requires attention beyond mystical, they have their own mosques, schools
over its leadership. A succession of dra- philosophical, and ethical ideas, to the ritual and religious seminaries for the train-
matic and sometimes violent confron- performances and religious organizational ing of religious clerics. The ‘urs helped
tations occurred as faction leaders mo- patterns that shape Sufi orders. to explain how, within a loosely inclu-
bilized their supporters. There was no sive movement, connections between
doubting the fierce passions aroused by this competition for honour Sufi saints and Barelvi ulama are created and perpetuated. It is through
and status in local diaspora politics. the many thousands of ‘urs festivals held annually at shrines and lodges
It was during these heady but often traumatic months of fieldwork throughout Pakistan, as well as in England and elsewhere, that Sufi re-
that I first encountered Hajji Karim. What struck me from the very start gional cults are linked into, and sustain, the wider Barelvi movement.
was his air of calm tranquillity. As he began to tell me about his Sufi
tariqa and its beliefs, I felt as though I had entered a world of peace The transnational and transethnic dimensions
and order, of voluntary altruism and deep faith. Unlike the factionalism of Sufism
and conflict-ridden relationships at the mosque, Hajji Karim’s universe Like other regional cults, Sufi cults are trans-regional, transnational,
was one of intellectual and aesthetic speculation and mystical experi- and trans-ethnic. They interpenetrate with one another rather than
ence, in which people sought transcendence rather than honour and generating contiguous, bounded territories. They leapfrog across
instrumental gain. The order shared many similarities with other re- major political and ethnic boundaries, creating their own sacred to-
gional and pilgrimage cults in South Central Africa and Latin America, pographies and flows of goods and people. These override, rather than
in which disciples or adepts follow ritual practices focused around a being congruent with, the political boundaries and subdivisions of na-
sacred centre, shrine, or person. tions, ethnic groups, or provinces.
The term regional cult is a comparative, analytic term used to de- The difficulty in trying to understand Sufism and comprehend its sys-
scribe centrally focused, non-contiguous religious organizations which tematic ritual and symbolic logic and organization, is that in any par-
extend across boundaries. Regional cults are thus religious organiza- ticular locality, there is a wide range of Sufi saints, from major shrines
tions built upon periodic ritual mobilizations of followers, in which of great antiquity, managed by descendants of the original saintly
cult branches, often located well beyond a central lodge or shrine, are founder and guardians of his tomb, to minor saints with a highly local-
linked in a sacred topography through flows of persons, goods, and ized clientele. In any generation, only some outstanding living saints
tributes. Such cults are more far-reaching than any local, parochial cult, succeed in founding major regional cults which extend widely beyond
yet they are less inclusive in membership and belief than a world reli- their immediate locality. Such cult, or ta’ifas as Trimingham calls them,
gion in its most universal form. The central lodge of the Sufi regional “undergo cycles of expansion, stagnation, decay, and even death,”1 but
cult I studied in the North since there are “thousands of them…new ones [are] continually being
West Frontier Province, was formed.”2 Hence, to compare Sufi regional cults across different places,
Sufi cults are trans-regional, connected to hundreds of separated by thousands of miles of sea and land and by radically dif-
widely separated branches ferent cultural milieus, is in many senses to seek the global in the local
located throughout Pakistan, rather than the local in the global. Either way, charting difference and
transnational, and trans-ethnic. from Kashmir to Karachi, and similarity in Sufism as an embodied tradition requires attention beyond
to dozens of branches in mystical, philosophical, and ethical ideas, to the ritual performances
Britain and the Gulf, wher- and religious organizational patterns that shape Sufi orders focused on
They…override political ever Pakistani migrants had a living saint or a dead saint’s shrine in widely separated locations.
settled. As the history of Sufism in South Asia and elsewhere (e.g. North Af-
As the research progressed rica, Senegal) shows, Sufi regional cults are inextricably intermeshed in
boundaries and subdivisions over the next twelve years, a regional politics. The cult’s key personnel seek recognition from politi-
series of new and fascinat- cians and administrators while, in turn, they accord legitimacy to these
ing questions and observa- temporal authorities. This dialectics between the political and the sa-
of nations, ethnic groups, tions emerged. For example, cred in Sufi cults arises because they are not inclusive in the same way as
I discovered that the ‘urs a world religion might be. They foster an exclusive membership based
(in Arabic, mawlid) celebra- on personal initiation to a particular saintly order, and yet their sacred
or provinces. tions, which commemorate centres and the major festivals around them are open to all. Relations
the birth of the Prophet Mu- between initiates are said to be (generic) relations of love and amity,
hammad and Muslim saints, stripped of any prior status, idealized as beyond conflict or division,
was highly structured. It had a beginning, a middle, and an end. It ef- yet the organization of regional cults is based around the ingathering
fected, in other words, a sacred transformation and as such it was a of elective groups from particular, defined political and administrative
transformative ritual, not merely a festival. The ‘urs, was also, it became communities—villages, towns, city neighbourhoods—while cult rela-
evident, the organizational hub of a Sufi order, conceived of as a re- tionships are often marred by interpersonal rivalries and jealousies. The
gional (and now global) cult. Even beyond its centralizing role, I found egalitarianism between initiates comes alongside internal relations of
that the ‘urs was also significant for understanding the way in which hierarchy, and all disciples, whatever their rank, are subject to the ab-

ISIM REVIEW 15 / SPRING 2005

 Religious Authority
solute authority and discipline of the
saint or his successors at the cult centre.
Indeed, worldly status, class and caste
are implicitly recognised at the central
lodge, while saintly descendants often
vie bitterly for the succession after the
decease of the founder. If there is a mo-
ment of experienced communitas dur-
ing the annual ritual at a Sufi regional
cult centre, it is the product of complex
logistical planning, a highly disciplined
division-of-labour, and constant vigi-
lance on the part of the organizers.
The ‘urs is the organizational nexus
of trans-local, regional and global Sufi
cult. Such cults are inserted into the
broader framework of Sufi orders, such
as the Naqshbandi order to which the

PHOTO BY PNINA WERBNER, 2003

cult I studied was affiliated.The Sufi
cultural concept which best captures
the idea of a Sufi region is wilayat, a
master concept in Sufi terminology,
denoting a series of interrelated mean-
ings: (secular) sovereignty over a re-
gion, the spiritual dominion of a saint,
guardianship, a foreign land, friendship,
intimacy with God, and union with the
Deity. As a master concept, wilayat en-
capsulates the range of complex ideas defining the charismatic power
of a saint—not only over transcendental spaces of mystical knowledge
but as sovereign of the terrestrial spaces into which his sacred region
extends. The term regional cult, a comparative, analytic term used to de-
scribe centrally focused, non-contiguous religious organizations which
extend across boundaries, seems particularly apt to capture this sym-
bolic complexity.
Power, charisma, and authority
Unlike the sort of political conflicts that might emerge over leader-
ship of corporately owned central institutions such as the Manchester
central mosque, Sufis recognise the absolute authority of a charismatic
figure, a Sufi saint. The charismatic living saint at the centre of the cult
I studied was known as Zindapir “the living saint.” He began his career
during the final days of Empire in the British army, as a tailor contrac-
tor for the seventh Baluch regiment, and many of his disciples were
army men. His beautiful little lodge is located in a valley near Kohat, an
army cantonment in the North West Frontier Province of Pakistan. After
establishing his lodge, he continued to recruit army personnel. Over
time, as these soldiers retired to their villagers or migrated to work in
England or in the Gulf, the catchment area of Zindapir’s regional cult in-
creased vastly. Moreover, he deliberately sent his vicegerents to estab-
lish branches of the cult in most of the towns and some of the villages
of the Frontier, the Punjab, and Sindh. In his later years, he initiated new
disciples from among the Afghans living in the refugee camp near the
lodge, and thus he now has a following in Afghanistan as well. He pro-
vided a langar, a free kitchen distributing “pure” food, during the Hajj,
organized by the English branch of the cult order, and this attracted
additional international followers. He also has branches of the cult in
South Africa. Like his murshid (Sufi guide), Baba Qasim of Mohra Sharif,
located at Muree, north of Islamabad, in the foothills of the Himalayas,
his faith was inclusive and trans-ethnic. He was a man of peace.
The love for him felt by his ordinary disciples was a deep wellspring,
which supported them in their daily endeavours. Orthodox, reform Suf-
ism, of the kind I studied, which follows the shariah, and self-conscious-
ly avoids heterodox practices, is thriving in South Asia today: many of
Zindapir’s present followers are prominent men in the civil service,
the army, the police, and even the government. My meetings with the
saint, which usually occurred late at night, resembled intense psycho-
analytic sessions in which it was never clear who the healer was, and
who the patient. I had early on decided that I would not interrogate the
Shaykh. He was far too big a figure and indeed, on the rare occasions
when I was tempted to ask him a question, the answer was inevita-
bly aphoristic and enigmatic. Instead, the Shaykh talked and I listened.
Now and then he would say something that clearly sparked my inter-
est and, lighting up, he would elaborate on this theme. My main hope Setting off on
was to communicate my friendship and admiration without overstep- a procession in
ping any boundaries. This seemed to work, because he called me to Birmingham
him again and again. He also allowed me to witness sessions with his
female disciples, and with supplicants. Over time it became evident,
however, that my role in the lodge as researcher was never quite clear. I
was there to write a book, and the Shaykh supported the research, and
yet the Shaykh did not want a book. He was a classic “directing” Shaykh,
who wanted the people to come to him, to bask in his grace, not to
read about him or admire his picture.
The saint died in 1999, and I attended the first ‘urs commemorating
his death in 2000. It was a sad event for me, though his followers cel-
ebrated his life in death with the usual devotion and pleasure. I missed
his delightful, often mischievous, and invariably unpredictable pres-
ence. It was a deeply felt absence But I gained many insights from this
last visit to the lodge about the cult, its organization, its khalifa, and the
organizational continuity following the death of a saint.
The peace that first attracted me to the Zindapir’s order did not, to
my disappointment, last forever. In particular, Hajji Karim and the or-
der’s mosque in Manchester came to be embroiled in internal conflicts
of power and authority, which affected my own relationship as a field-
worker with the order’s living saint in Britain, the senior khalifa (deputy,
vicegerent) of Zindapir. Yet Hajji Karim remains a faithful khalifa of Zin-
dapir’s son, now head of the order in Pakistan, and he continues to seek
the divine revelation promised by Sufi mystics in their scholarly books,
and to believe in the possibility of transcendence.
Notes
1. J. S. Trimingham, The Sufi Orders in Islam
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971),179.
2. Ibid. ,172.
Pnina Werbner is Professor of Social Anthropology in the School of Social Relations,
Keele University, and author of Pilgrims of Love: the Anthropology of a Global Sufi Cult
(Hurst Publishers and the University of Indiana Press, 2003).
Email: P.Werbner@keele.ac.uk

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